


Late Night Meetings

by gwmclintock88



Series: Live Grenades [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Minor Angst, Minor Spoilers for AoS 1x12/1x13
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-09
Updated: 2014-02-09
Packaged: 2018-01-11 17:15:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1175712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwmclintock88/pseuds/gwmclintock88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha observes Coulson as he sleeps before discussing recent events with him. As much as she can discuss anything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Late Night Meetings

            It was past midnight, fourteen minutes to be precise. She sat there, waiting there for less than three minutes. Getting onto the Bus remained one of the easier entries she committed within the last decade. Another thing Coulson would have to address. But for now, she was nothing if not patient.

            Coulson exhibited signs of a REM state, his eyes flickering behind his eye lids. His limbs thrashed, twisting the sheets. The scar puckered out of his chest, glaring at her as she watched guard over her handler. Loki took something from all of them, and nearly took this man from them as well. She would negotiate with the devil she refused to believe in (you believe in one, you believe in the other, and she could not believe in the other) for five minutes in a locked room and her tool belt.

            After another two minutes and forty-three seconds, the thrashing stopped, quickly replaced by the swift signs of an agent awake and aware. He reached underneath his pillow, grabbing the pistol they all kept close by. In twelve milliseconds (three milliseconds slower than his average time), he pointed it at the shadow she cast in the darkness of his room.

            “Natasha,” he slumped back against his pillows. He kept the pistol in his hand, but his body relaxed. She moved slowly, carefully, calculating each step and distributing her weight to step without a sound.

            “Phil.” She sat next to him, not touching, but close enough to feel the heat of his body. Four, no five centimeters separate them. Two less than she normally allows, but for Coulson, for now, she needs to let him be closer.

            “Thought you’d be by sooner,” Coulson said, giving her a small, but honest smile. “Though, this is certainly not an unexpected choice.” She sat in silence with him, letting it wrap them up as they just were.

            “Fury never told us you were back,” she said. She would never admit to the emotions evoked by his death, of the solitude (even from Clint) she sought to just release the anger and despair.

            “No, he wouldn’t. Natasha, I’m….I’m sorry for not letting you know.”

            “Trust the system.” She echoed the words ingrained in all of the agents, words reflecting her time in the Red Room. Words she had to rely on, before New York and before Loki.

            “Doesn’t seem to work out too well for us anymore does it?” She nodded affirmative at his question. The report on his teams (Agents Ward’s and Fitz’s) excursion to Russia angered her; enough that even Steve requested her to cut back on their morning exercises.  It was her only outside expression of the anger, but after talking with Steve about the powerlessness (not that she called it that) of being left behind, she began to accept and plan her course of action.

            The plan of action would have led her to talking with one Victoria Hand (potentially with the agent being presumed missing), but Steve talked her out of it, simply by mentioning his planned stop at the Hub to drop off the gift.  Even with seventy years napping, the man with the plan managed to demonstrate his versatility and understanding of people. His plan provided her with an opportunity to prepare Coulson for their inevitable meeting, as well as test the security of the Bus.

            The former worked fine. The latter she planned on reviewing completely with Clint after he had his meeting.

            “No, but maybe it’s a good thing.”  She glanced down at his chest again, the scar still glaring up at her.

            “Trust the people?” Her voice was small, and the question unexpected. She had not meant to reveal such a personal detail, even with the trust she had in the man sitting beside her. The vulnerability though eased him, enough that he stopped trying to maintain his rigid posture and the scar collapsed in on itself slightly as he relaxed against his pillows. She tore her eyes from his scar, meeting his eyes in the darkness once more. This time, she saw the Phil she remembered, but somehow stronger and…softer too.

            “I’ve read your reports too,” Phil said, his gaze never leaving her. “You’re doing better.”

            “Going on missions does not necessarily mean I am doing better.” She tore herself from meeting his gaze, and began doing another inspection of the room.

            Staring at his mementos, she realized one was missing – a watch radio. Only twenty were made, and he seemed proud, showing it off to her and Clint when he first got it. Like he always did when he found a new collectable. She mentally drew up all of the reports, selecting the recent one where they (Coulson and Skye) were trapped in his office.  Though no mention of his radio, but to escape, they needed something. Making a mental note, she returned to the conversation at hand, just as Coulson finally retorted.  

            “Being with people does.” He countered. “Plus, you’ve got stories about the Avengers. Well, most of them.” She rolled her eyes, letting her lips shift slightly. Small, but truthful.

            Silence surrounded them again. Comfortable, welcoming, like an old friend with a glass of good vodka or scotch after a night in winter.

            “You’re going after him aren’t you?” She didn’t need to say the name of the target. He had been on SHIELD’s watch list for a while, ever since the incident in

            “We need to. Someone has to stop him.”

            “Okay.” There was not much else to say. Not much else to discuss really. This was how things were between them, how they always were. She responded well to working with Coulson, not under him. Unlike in the Red Room, Coulson encouraged her to disagree and offer alternatives, to change the plans. Never had she been punished for adapting to the situation or beaten for disobeying an order. As an agent, working for SHIELD was leagues beyond anything that the Red Room could have offered. From simply a games perspective, the rewards for participating in any game with SHIELD outweighed not participating.

            “Sir.” She nodded her goodbyes and stood from the bed. A strange urge overtook her. Stopping, she took a few seconds to analyze the sensation and thoughts as she stepped away.

            She felt a sense of longing. Not an addiction or desire. But a sensation, an emotional appraisal resulting in the physical need to accomplish something. She only experience such a sensation once before, when Clint was…unmade by Loki. She was unable to quantify it, but the experience reverberated with her then as it did now. Then she was unable to complete the appraisal by addressing the need, but here, she could.

            “Sir?” She turned back to look at Coulson. He shuffled to the end of the bed, appearing as tired as he should have been.

            “Yes Natasha?”

            She leaned down, wrapping her arms around him. Normally, this was followed with her restricting the target’s breathing with appropriately applied pressure. This time, she kept the touch light, if stilted. After a moment, Coulson returned the gesture, wrapping his arms around her waist.

            “You okay, sir?” She asked, softly but not whispering the words into his ear. He felt warm, real to her touch. His breath spread softly against her neck, and just for a moment, he squeezed her waist before releasing her.  

            “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry.” He said, returning the gesture and emotion through his words.

            “I’m afraid I have to.” Natasha gave him another small smile, letting him see past the mask, even just a little bit more. Coulson was, and would always be, one of the few men she would allow past the masks and duct tape that held her together. “Who else is going to make sure you come home?” He returned the smile and ducked his head down to push off the bed.

            In that instant he looked away, she moved back into the shadows, slipping into her planned exit strategy. And just like that, the moment passed, and she was the Black Widow again. Just one more thing to leave and she would head back to the tower.

**I0I**

Staring at the mirror for a moment, he wiped the sincere smile off his face.  With one unexpected visit down, he mentally began to prepare for the easier of the two. Oddly enough, he already had an idea of what to expect, and what it would take to get Clint to forgive him.  

            Once ready, he stepped out of the bathroom, only to meet May staring at him. “Sir.”

            “Anything I should know?” He asked, unfazed by the sudden appearance.

            “We had a breach last night. Once at 00:01 and again at 00:32.”

            “We did?” Coulson asked, unwilling to give it up yet. “How did you know?” He was curious himself, but that was part of Natasha’s mystique.  No alarms were set off, and certainly nothing was stolen.

            May held up a piece of paper. He took it, confused as the glare continued from May. Once he started reading it, however, he understood. The paper outlined  in Natasha’s messy scrawl the security errors she noted while infiltrating the plane the previous night. Most of them would be impossible for anyone but the top percent of SHIELD agents to complete.  Except, well…the actual infiltration. He wasn’t sure if anyone but Natasha could pull it off. He also was certain she would never completely reveal how she did it.

            “So, I take it the plane is on auto-pilot at the moment?” He asked, handing back the paper. The report would be re-written and sent into the Hub to be schedule the Bus to be retrofitted. Again.

            “Yes, but there was no indication of how the intruder entered while the plane was in motion,” May said, pointing not asking her question.  Coulson nodded in understanding. He side-stepped her and headed to the small, but well stocked mess they kept. May followed him,  silently demanding an answer to several questions.

            “Good morning.” FitzSimmons sat at one of the tables, eagerly discussing something on the tablet over their respective breakfasts. One of the first rules he instituted was the necessity of breakfast. It worked for Clint and Natasha, and after watching Tony, then Bruce, and now FitzSimmons work, the rule certainly made his life easily: No more fainting scientists.

            Skye sat at her computer, surfing either tumblr or reddit. He wasn’t quite certain and the last time he asked, he was informed of an argument she was having with someone named TazerGirl616 about ‘Stony’, whatever that was, and that Skye vehemently opposed. He made a mental note to have SHIELD run a background check on TazerGirl616, just to be safe. No sense in being unprepared.

            Ward leaned against the counter, next to the coffee pot. He stepped aside and let Coulson grab his favorite mug (one with the Captain’s shield on it) and fill it up.

            “Debriefing in twenty.”  They were still several hours out of Italy, but they would need time to prepare the several working components.  It was going to be a long day.  He’d have time later to answer any more of May’s questions.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Marvel/Disney owns the Avengers and Agents of SHIELD. I own nothing, but if I did, wouldn't that be fun?


End file.
